Daughters of Apollo
by LunaPadma
Summary: The daughters of Apollo are often overlooked. A collection of unrelated one-shots about different daughters of Apollo.
1. You Belong With Me

Daughters of Apollo

**I do not own anything, except for Cassie, Arty, and anyone I choose to make up. This applies to the rest of the story, too.**

_We are daughters of Apollo, the ones who are always forgotten._

_I'm not actually being overdramatic (or dramatic at all) when I say that. I can name a son of Demeter (George Washington Carver), a daughter of Poseidon (Rachel Carson) or a son of Aphrodite (Eros) easier than I can name a daughter of Apollo who's done something that people know about._

_We aren't invisible, dang it!_

_I, Arty (Artemis) Becker, have decided to post these stories on a website that will probably make you think that these are fiction._

_They're not._

Cassie Jackson. No relation to the Percy. She was just an average Apollo girl.

Of course, she was in love with her best friend, who was in love with this girl from Aphrodite. _Silena_.

She was disgustingly pretty. That girl that you hated because she was so pretty.

She also had no substance, though. There was hope that Beckendorf would see that and reconsider.

As if. Aphrodite was a little more concerned with her daughters than Apollo's brats.

Apollo's Brats. Good name for a band.

Anyways, she was sitting in her cabin, when she heard.

Percy was back.

And if Percy was back, it meant Beckendorf was too.

_She_ was probably there too. Ever since they started dating, they've always been together. And she calls him _Charlie_. His name is Beckendorf.

She ran to the beach, looking for him. He was her best friend, after all.

Percy was there. But where was Beckendorf?

Cassie asks "Where's Beckendorf?"

He looks at her strangely. "Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Cassie, one of Apollo's brats. I'm Beckendorf's best friend. Where is he?"

"You are?" Yes, she understands that not many believe her, but she is tired of people not grasping that.

"Contrary to popular belief, Jackson, boys can have girl best friends without wanting to make out with them." _This time, the girl best friend wants to make out with the guy, _she added silently.

Travis Stoll looks away, unable to meet her eyes. "Um...Cassie...how do I say this..." he starts, but he cannot finish.

"What?" She can take anything. Or so she thinks.

"He...died, Cass."

"What?" No. This couldn't be happening. Now everyone would expect her to go bond with the she-demon-who-is-probably-betraying-the-camp-as-she-spoke-and-is-a-pain-in-the-butt-as-well.

Cassie started crying. Sobbing, really. She wasn't one of those people who could cry while looking pretty. Her face got red and blotchy, and her eyes got red, and her nose ran like the Stoll brothers trying to get the last Silly String on the planet.

Which, in case you were unaware of the Stoll brothers' Silly String dependency, is pretty dang fast.

And then the she-demon herself yells "You don't even know who he is!"

"And you did?" Cassie asks. "I was his best friend! I've known him since I was eight. For ten years, he's been my best friend, and you think that I'm lying? We were going to go to NYU together! He never told you about his best friend? And you say that he's your boyfriend?"

"Charlie always called his best friend 'Cass', and I assumed he meant Castor."

"Castor died last year in the Battle of the Labyrinth. Anyways, he and Beckendorf hated each other."

"He never told me that."

Cassie feels like Taylor in that song with the music video involving prom and holding up note-things that her half-brother Will Solace was obsessed with.

Only she won't get her happy ending.

"And you call yourself his girlfriend?"

"You did _not_ just go there!"

And the she-demon launches herself at Cassie, and they start fighting.  
They are rolling on the ground, each one trying to get the upper hand.

And then someone pulls the she-demon off her, and Cassie looks up to see the unusually grim face of Travis Stoll.

He pulls her away from the crowd, towards the mess hall.

"I know you're upset," he starts. He's a good friend, been so almost as long as Beckendorf. If it weren't for Beckendorf, in fact, he would be her best friend.

"Yeah." Cassie says, looking at the ground.

"And I know you loved him," he adds. She could confide in him when she couldn't in anyone else.

"But I want you to remember that I'm still here." he finishes.

"I know that." Cassie says, slightly confused.

He sighs, and pulls a leaf out of her hair. "That's not what I meant." he says softly, more to himself than to her.

And he turns, walking back to his cabin.

Cassie's really confused.

Cursing the fact that her dad never gave her some sort of crash course in understanding Guy and that Chiron confiscated her half-sister Megan's magazines on understanding them, she goes back to her cabin.

If only she didn't hate the she-demon. Maybe then she could've asked for advice on understanding what Travis meant.

Why wasn't Apollo gifting his daughters with the gift of understanding guys? Why wasn't Apollo caring a little more for his daughters?

Her dad was the god of prophecy. And he didn't care enough to help his kids. How was this fair?

In her cabin, she sat on her bed and cried.

Travis Apollo Cassie

Cassie was fighting. She had run out of arrows a while ago, and had picked up a sword. It wasn't her weapon, but she'd been training with it for nearly ten years. She was a year-round camper; her mom was busy singing on a cruise ship somewhere in the Bahamas. Or maybe it was Mexico.

She drove the thought out of her mind and slashed. The Laistrygonian dodged, but not fast enough. It vaporized, leaving Cassie breathing heavily.

"Bravo," a voice said.

She turned. Standing there was an enemy half-blood, clapping.

He was wearing an eye patch, and had black hair. He came at her, holding his sword, swinging it effortlessly.

Offering prayers to Apollo (dad), Athena (wise), Ares (strong), Artemis (cool), Zeus (king), Nike (victory), and Nemesis (felt right), she parried.

Or tried to. As she had said, the sword was not her weapon.

He laughed as he disarmed her. He laughed as he knocked her down.

He laughed as he stood over her, poised to kill.

"Please, no." she said softly. "I don't want..."

"To die?" He said it so harshly. He didn't care about her.

"To go to Elysium. Not yet, anyway."

"Why?"

"This guy I loved is down there. He was also my best friend. And this girl I hate. Who's dating him. Did I mention that?"

"So you think that you can get me spare you by some sob story? Well, it's not going to _work!_"

He laughed as he killed her.

And she finally understood what Travis meant, that day that seems so long ago.

**Well? **

**Good? **

**Bad?**

**Write more?**

**You're a horrible author?**

**Requests?**

**R&R!**

**-Luna**


	2. White Rose

**I do not own anything. **

**Thanks to emjeeoay, PowerofWords12, and Le Duele La Cabeza for reviewing!**

**And PowerofWords12, most demigods don't have a happy ending, but Fanny's does.**

The White Rose

Fanny smiled as she opens a book that she closed forever seventeen years ago.

Pressed between the first pages was a note.

_Fanny,_

_Meet me by the creek._

_Malcolm_

Between pages 34 and 35, there was a small paper figure of Tyche, goddess of luck, on one side and Nike, goddess of victory, on the other. It was Katarina's, her half-sister. Katarina had given it to her as a good-luck charm during the war.

It worked. Katarina was married, and had twins. They defeated the Titans. Fanny had her life.

Something was missing. Something important. And it was probably contained in the pages of the book in front of her.

And then she found it. Pressed between pages 72 and 73 was a white rose.

She smiled as she remembered the day.

_It was sunny. A beautiful day, which fit the mood._

_Fanny was stretched out under a tree, reading her favorite book._

_A terrified little twelve-year-old came toward her._

"_M-m-malcolm t-told me t-to give this to y-you." she stuttered._

_The card told her to go to the creek. She smiled, tucking the card into her book and using her lucky bookmark to mark her page._

_She smiled as she neared the creek. Malcolm was looking around, visibly nervous. _

"_Malcolm!" she calls. He turns and smiles._

"_Hey! I didn't think you'd show up!"_

"_Then you don't know me very well." She runs up to him, he grabs her. She screams with delight._

_They spend the rest of the day together, laughing, playing, and talking. They learn more about each other. _

_And the next day, she's reading under a tree, and he drops a white rose into her lap._

"_I remembered that it's your favorite flower." He said, smiling. "The Demeter girls kept giving those knowing looks to each other, and it drove me insane. I hope you're happy."_

"_Why?" _

"_Apparently, it means 'eternal love', or something."_

"_I knew I liked that flower."_

And then it ended. All it took was one stupid fight and it was over.

"I never want to see you again!" she had yelled over her shoulder.

What was that fight even about anyway?

Fanny made one of those split-second decisions. She picked up the phone.

"Hey, Kat? I have a question."

"Fanny! What's this dying burning question?"

"I never said it was dying burning."

"It was implied." Fanny had to smile.

"Are you still in touch with um...Malcolm Harris?"

"Annabeth's brother? The one that's your ex-boyfrie-"

"Yes, that one. How many other Malcolms do we know?"

"Well, actually-"

"Whose names end in Harris?"

"Okay. You're lucky. I talked to Annabeth this week. She said something about him being a reporter for the Chicago Tribune or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I heard that he's a columnist?"

"Thanks, bye!"

"B-"

But Fanny had already hung up.

She tore down the street, trying to find someone who sold The Chicago Tribune. Finally, she found one, threw down a twenty, and grabbed the newspaper.

She scanned through the bylines until finally...

"YES!!!!"

Everybody looked, but she had found him.

And he wasn't a columnist; he was a current events writer.

She ran to the nearest airport, went to the nearest desk, and bought a ticket to Chicago.

Feeling strangely light-headed (she blamed the spur-of-the-moment thing), Fanny went to go buy a magazine or something for the flight.

And then she jumped off the plane, hailed a cab to the newspaper office, and practically attacked the secretary or Malcolm's address, when suddenly

"Fanny?"

There he was. Standing there. He grew up well, that was obvious. No wedding ring, that was good.

"Malcolm?"

"What are you doing here? Don't you live in New York?"  
"I came to find you, as crazy as that sounds."

"Why?"

"I opened the book."

He came forward. She wondered what he was doing. He pulled her into a hug, and it just felt so _right_.

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you." Fanny whispered.

"I know I never stopped loving you."

**End.**

**What do you think?**

**Please R&R!**


	3. Megan's Side

**I don't own PJO, and I'd like to thank all my reviewers. **

**I got my first flame, from Ann Nonamus. She told me that my story was an abomination and to stick my hands in blenders. She spelled abomination wrong. Please, if you feel the need to flame me, tell me what's wrong with it!!**

Megan Shay was tired, but not in a 'oh-I-just-ran-five-miles-carrying-300-pounds-of-rocks' way. More of an 'all-these-deaths-are-taking-their-toll' way.

Maybe she should relax, calm down, try to forget the war. The sea always made her calm, so maybe she should go there.

She made her way quietly to the sea, but someone was there already. Percy Jackson was staring out across the water, obviously trying to find some peace, just like her.

"Mind if I sit?" she asks, dropping to the warm sand.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Something bothering you?"

"No!"

Yes, something was most definitely bothering him. "You can trust me. The likelihood of me telling your weaknesses to Kronos is very low right about now."

He smiles, and then, "Have you ever been in love with your best friend?"

"No. I can honestly say that I've never been in love with my sister."

"Count yourself lucky. You have no idea what it's like."

"My sister went through the same thing; only in her case the guy was dating this other girl, and her other friend was in love with her."

"Really? What happened?"

"They all died in the war, except the friend, and he won't talk about it to anyone. Maybe that's not the best example..."

"Yeah,"

"Since when is Annabeth one of your best friends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Give me a little credit, Jackson. My dad's had about as many kids as Zeus, and my mom's had about as many boyfriends as Aphrodite. I think I can spot a romance fifty miles away blindfolded. It's programmed into my DNA."

"Well, I guess she's not really my best friend, but she was. Now she's the girl I can't get out of my head and who I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"I'm not so great with the whole 'relationship advice' thing, and I've never really been in a relationship or anything, but I have a word of advice for you."

"What?"

"Don't wait. My friend/half-sister waited, and the guy she liked got a girlfriend. Annabeth likes you a lot, but she won't wait forever."

"Okay, I'll tell her soon."

"Again, I have no experience in this or anything, but what I think would be really cute is to leave a vase of flowers in front of the door with a card that says 'Will you go out with me?'"

"That's a really cool idea. What flowers do you think she'd like?"

"I dunno, some sort of underwater thing."

"Thanks, you've been a big help."

"No problem. Any time."

He gets up and leaves, leaving Megan alone with her thoughts. After a little while, she gets up and goes back to her cabin.

The next day, she looks over to the Athena cabin and sees a small vase filled with orchids. She sees Percy and he gives her a thumbs-up sign and points at the vase on the Athena cabin stoop.

Megan walks over to where Percy is watching.

"I like the orchids," she says, sitting next to him.

He reddens slightly. "Thanks."

"How'd you get the flowers?"

"Katie Gardner owed me."

At that moment, Annabeth walks out of her cabin, looks at the vase, reads the card, and smiles. She pulls out a pen, and scribbles something on the back of the card. She turns and goes back inside.

Percy runs over and reads the card, Megan right behind him. The card says:

_Dear Seaweed Brain,_

_Of course I'll go out with you! What took you so long?_

_Love the Flowers,_

_Wise Girl_

Percy smiles, and writes underneath Annabeth's note: _Where to?_

The next day there was another note:

_I like Italian._

And so they began to date.

Megan was always in the back, urging on Percy, egging on Annabeth.

And so they got married.

Megan was still helping out in the romance department. She felt like a daughter of Aphrodite, what with her giving advice to Percy when Annabeth kicked him out of the house, telling Annabeth what to get Percy for their anniversary.

And nobody questioned why Megan was the godmother to each and every one of their kids.

And when Megan was fifty-nine, she had a visitor.

A truly gorgeous man was standing in her kitchen.

"Which god are you?" she asked immediately, lowering the frying pan she had grabbed when she heard someone banging around at three-thirty in the morning.

He looked at her, smiling softly. "What makes you think I'm a god?"

"If you're not, please get out of my kitchen, and more importantly, how'd you get in without setting off the burglar alarm?"

"Your passcode is 28-14-7."

"Okay, now that I know you're _stalking _me, please leave. I don't have any money, and if I did, I'd buy a nice pair of shoes. Since I am cute-shoeless, I think we can safely assume that I'm broke. My neighbor seems rich, rob him."

"And if I am a god?"

"What do you want?"

"To see you."

"Nobody ever wants to see me. I mean, my own father doesn't want to see me."

"Your dad has a reason."

"I know his reason. He's off having as many kids as possible. I've heard Zeus has started pumping them out, and if he couldn't have hung onto that lead, I think I want a paternity test."

The god smiled. "I'm here because my mother finally got off my back for 'duty-shirking'."

"And your mother is…?"

"Aphrodite. She likes what you've done with what she calls 'Percabeth'. I'm not totally sure if she made that up or got it off of some weird 'fanfiction' website."

"My much younger half-sister's been on that. She says it's funny because they've just got everything wrong."

"Yeah, my mom says that too."

"Look," Megan said, not in the mood to beat around the bush. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here-"

"I want the real reason. Why now? I am fifty nine years old. Why now? I've 'helped the Percabeth cause' since I was barely sixteen! That was forty-three years ago! Why at this very moment has your mother decided to have you come visit me, Eros? And don't look all shocked, I'm not stupid! Why are you here?"

"My mother has wanted to reward you, for forty-three years. Every year, for forty-three years, she has come into my house and said, 'Eros, I've found the perfect boy for that girl. I want you to shoot them both, so they'll fall in love.' Every year, for forty-three years, I haven't. Every year, I look down on the boy she's chosen for you, and I think about how wrong he is for you. Every year, I think about how my mother is wrong. Every stinking year, for forty-three years, I've wanted to come down here and tell you. Every year, I've chickened out."

"Get out of my house." Megan said angrily. Shocked, a mute Eros made his way slowly to the door. "Here's a tip, oh, god of love," she called after him, patronizing him. "If you truly love someone, you want them to be happy. You might also care to know that I don't love the gods. I respect them, and yes, I fought for Olympus, but that wasn't for you. That wasn't for any god. That was for my family. That was for my friends. That was for Camp. I could care less if the gods were punished. I hung around and didn't go off with Luke for those who hadn't given up on them yet."

He left quickly, silently. She watched out of the window as he exited her apartment building and walked around the corner, her bow trained on him the entire time.

When he disappeared from sight, she slumped down on the ground, leaning against the wall, and dropping the bow and arrow. She thought about a promise she had made to Luke and to herself at the age of eleven. It wasn't binding and it had no real impact to the decision that she had made to kick Eros out of her house.

"_Megan, you don't want to be here! I know that, you know that, this entire camp knows that! And I know you are not on the gods' side. I've heard you curse them. Join me, and we can overthrow them!" Luke was in a rage._

"_Luke, I told you, no. I don't like the gods, you know that. They're not the reason I'm not leaving. I'm staying here because of one reason."_

"_Oh? What's this reason."_

_She met his eyes. "Not everyone knows the truth about them. I'm staying for those who haven't given up hope yet. I'm staying for my real family."_

"_Megan, if you ever feel like finally taking a stand against them, come talk to me."_

"_That will not happen. But let me tell you one thing."_

"_What?"_

"_After how my father treated my mother, I will never get involved with a god. I make that promise to you."_

"_I doubt it." There was an unmistakable bitterness in his voice. "I've seen how the girls react when the gods visit. Don't take it personally, but I don't believe you."_

"_Watch me."_

Most people would probably leap at the chance for the god of love to love them. Too bad she wasn't one of them.

In her book, being beloved of the gods was being hated by the gods. They always try to look out for you and end up causing more trouble she didn't need.

She fell asleep there, by the window, only to be woken up at six-fifteen by her thirty-six-year-old godson, who needed a little bit of relationship advice.

Some things never really change.


	4. Facts of Life

**This is me owning nothing. Not even Kayla. She's briefly mentioned in TLO.**

**Also, I've never broken a wrist, so I don't know what it's like.**

Kayla Henderson wasn't very good at fighting. I mean, Cassie Jackson could beat her. It was a fact of life, just like it was a fact of life that Percy Jackson was a moron.

Her half-sister, Megan, swore that there was something between him and Annabeth Chase, but she didn't believe it. That boy made some of the _Ares_ kids look like they had PhDs.

She knew that she'd probably die, but she wasn't scared. She would die anyway, so it might as well be a hero's death, defending the home of her father.

Kayla Henderson was fighting something she couldn't win. Literally and figuratively.

The demigod she was fighting could probably kill her with one hand tied behind her back. She could probably eat her if she was so inclined.

For what was probably the one-hundred-millionth time that battle, she wished she was a daughter of Ares, or at least could fight like one.

Kayla glanced upwards quickly, hoping to see something along the lines of some good swordsman on a Pegasus. Instead, she saw a flying chariot.

Wait a second. A flying chariot would mean that the Ares kids were here. And if the Ares kids were here, then there might be slightly less of a chance of her demise.

In her brief moment of distraction, the enemy half-blood disarmed her.

Kayla stood silently, waiting for her death.

It did not come.

Instead, someone shoved her out of the way.

As she fell, she threw out her right arm to cushion the blow. Big mistake.

Instead, she landed on her wrist _exactly_ wrong, and there was a small snapping sound. It hurt like Hades.

Kayla looked up through her watering eyes at her savior. He was that son of Ares, the only one with the slightest amount of talent in the archery department. What was his name, anyway?

Mike? No, that wasn't it…Mick? No…Mac? Closer, closer…Mark! That was it, Mark.

She watched him kill the half-blood quickly, effortlessly. It hurt a little in the pride department, but eating crow was preferable to eating her next meal in the underworld.

He helped her up, carefully avoiding her wrist. "You okay?" he asked.

"Fine. It's not that bad. One of my siblings can fix it."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." She was in no way sure whatsoever, but it sure made her sound more confident.

They walked in silence until they got to the Plaza hotel, the base.

Mark held the door open for her. That didn't usually happen for Kayla. She wasn't really that pretty, it was a fact of life; Fanny was much prettier.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

She walked inside, only to be mobbed by her three most annoying brothers: Will Solace, Austin Thomas, and Johnny Harper.

"Who did this to you?" Johnny demanded.

"What, the wrist? Funny that you should mention it, you see, this girl I was fighting was coming closer-" Kayla started, but was interrupted.

"It's my fault. I pushed her." Mark said emotionlessly.

"You WHAT?!?" all three brothers yelled.

"Hello? Broken wrist here. I think it's slightly more important than attacking the guy who _saved my life_!" It was a fact of life that he did save her life; that girl would've murdered her.

Austin came over and gave her a square of ambrosia and started to wrap up her arm.

When he was about halfway done, Katarina Marx burst in, hysterical.

"Hey, Kat, what's wrong?" Will asked.

"What's wrong? _What's wrong?_" Kat shrieked. "Cassie's dead! Cassandra Lois Jackson is _dead!_"

No. Cassie had to have survived. She shouldn't've died. It was wrong.

Cassie was the kind of girl who should have lived to the ripe old age of 107. Of course, who cares about what should have happened.

Austin finished wrapping up her arm in silence while Johnny and Will took care of Kat.

As soon as he was done, she grabbed Mark's arm and pulled him out of the hotel. He followed silently.

"Look, you don't go telling my brothers that you broke my wrist!"

"Why?"

"My brothers and father are the most overprotective things on the planet. It's a fact of life. You can take the most overprotective human parents in the world, square them, and times them by a hundred, and I doubt they'd equal my brothers and dad."

"I've seen your sisters date before."

"Just because they forbid us to do certain things doesn't mean we listen. But you know my sister, Kat? Kat Marx?"  
"The hysterical one?"

Kayla nods. "Yeah. Well, you know how she was dating Keith? From the Hermes cabin?"

Mark nodded.

"Well, they were sparring. Kat's the best fighter in the Apollo cabin, not that that's saying much. Well, Keith got under her defense and accidentally gave her this little scratch on her forearm. It didn't even bleed. Kat made the mistake of telling Johnny Harper. Two weeks later, Keith left camp."

"So your brothers drove him off. But what about Katarina? What did she do?"

"Oh, they're still dating. But you tell that to my brothers and you die."

"Okay."

She found a sword and they went to fight, to protect their fathers' home.

* * *

Six months later, they were officially dating.

To finally get some alone time, they had gone to the woods, and were now sitting on a fallen log, enjoying each other's company.

"Your brothers are getting quite creative with their death threats." Mark remarked at one point.

"What death threats?"

"Well, at first it was 'I am going to dismember and then douse you in boiling oil', but now they started rhyming."

"Rhyming?"

"Yeah, I found this poem pinned to my door. It's pretty impressive. It's like sonnet or something."

"Can I read it?"

The poem read

_Dear Mark,_

_If you hurt my baby girl,_

_Or upset her in any way,_

_I'll first punch you so bad, you'll hurl._

_And then end your life that day._

_I'll turn you into a goat and then_

_I'll roast you over an open flame_

_And sacrifice you to your dad, along with a wren._

_Mr. D will get the blame._

_Or maybe I'll kill you slowly_

_With death by a thousand cuts._

_Then turn your remains into guacamole._

_And serve you at a party with pistachio nuts._

_I'm warning you, don't hurt her_

_Or else I'll kill you, monsieur. _

The truth hit Kayla like a basin of cold water.  
"That poem's not from my brothers. It's from my dad."

Mark was silent.

Kayla ran her finger over the log, until-

"Ow!"

"What's wrong?"

"Splinter."

"I'll remove it. I am a splinter-removing expert. What can I say, it's a talent."

Mark pulled out one of those Swiss-army knives, and pulled out a pair of tweezers. He grabbed the small piece of wood and pulled.

"Ow! Stop, that hurts!"

Mark didn't listen. "Baby."

"Only about pain."

They stayed quiet for a few more seconds.

"There, it's ou-"

He never would finish that word. Kayla was sure the reason was the golden arrow that now protruded from his stomach.

"Ow…" he mumbled.

"Hey," Kayla said, trying to make a joke. "At least you're not a goat."

"Ha-ha."

He lapsed into unconsciousness. Somehow, Kayla didn't think that was good.

Kayla screamed, "Hey dad! Guess what? You know why I said 'Ow!'? Wondering, by any chance? It was a splinter. And when he 'broke my wrist'? Yeah, he pushed me out of the way of death! He saved my _life_, and I was stupid enough to throw my arm out to break my fall! I broke my wrist instead! So is this how you repay him? Nice dad, nice. And by the way, your poems SUCK!"

She doubted that the best way to get the god of healing and doctors on her side was to yell at them, but it made her feel better.

She knelt and quickly built a fire. As soon as she saw the flame take to the kindling, she pulled off the hat that Johnny, the die-hard Red Sox fan, who never gave up any Red Sox memorabilia, had given her when she first came to camp. She threw it in the fire, and whispered, "Anyone, anyone, _please_, help him…" She repeated it for what seemed like hours, but in truth was about a minute.

"You know, I never liked how girls cried over boys. It just makes no sense. If you ask me, I say 'Who cares?'."

"Lady Artemis, if you don't like boys, why are you here?"

"I like you, kid. You got spunk. Let's make a deal."

"Anything…anything."

"I'll heal the kid if you join my Hunters."

Kayla thought for a moment. Honestly this wasn't really a choice at all. It was a…a bath or pink dress choice from A Series of Unfortunate Events. A Hobson's Choice.

"I'll do it."

"Good! Repeat after me: _I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis_. _I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt_."

"Um…I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt."

"I accept."

She walked over to where Mark lay, unconscious. Artemis pulled out the arrow and lay a hand on the wound. It closed up as if nothing had happened and my father hadn't shot Mark in the stomach. Mark had yelled when the arrow was pulled out, and had now settled into a fitful sleep.

Kayla borrowed a sheet of paper from Artemis, pulled out a pen from her pocket, wrote a quick letter, and pinned it to a tree using her father's arrow.

When Mark awoke, he noticed three things: one, there was no longer an arrow in him. Two, there was no gaping, bloody hole where the arrow should've been. And three, something was pinned to a tree about five feet away.

He got up and walked over to the letter.

_Dear Mark, _it read.

_I wish I could have been there when you woke up. I mean, it's my fault you nearly died. But that's not why I'm writing._

_I'm writing because of a decision I made. I had to. I had no choice._

_The choice was either let you die or join the Hunters of Artemis._

_As you are still alive, I think you can guess which one I chose. I'm sorry, Mark, but there was no other option. No other way for you to live. And I love you too much to let you die._

_I know I never told you before, but I love you._

_That's why I became a Hunter._

_Goodbye,_

_Kayla_

Mark walked back into camp alone. He told whoever asked that Kayla had decided to become a Hunter.

When Travis Stoll came up to him, Mark held up a hand.

"I don't-no, I _can't_ talk about it."

"I know how you feel. Remember Cassie Jackson? I really liked her. A lot. And she died. I'm not here to offer condolences. I'm here to offer you a drink."

"Thanks."

And that's how the two of them ended up in the arena, both holding a beer bottle.

"To Apollo's daughters: for making us fall in love and then leaving." Travis said, holding his beer in the air.

"But you know we'd hate them if they were any different." Mark finished.

They clinked bottles and drank deeply. The silence was broken, however, by some son of Athena.

"Can I join you?" Malcolm asked. "Fanny broke up with me."

"Have a seat, here's a beer." Travis said, handing him one. "To the broken-hearted lovers of Apollo's girls!"

"The broken-hearted lovers of Apollo's girls!" they cheered.

They formed kind of like a support group, for every guy who ever had problems with Apollo's feisty daughters. One meeting, Apollo himself showed up, but that's a different story.

And he never forgot her.


	5. The First

The first time he saw her, she was wearing a Superman cape.

He being Apollo. And her being his daughter, Adelaide.

She was five at the time. He was visiting her mother, Tracy.

Adelaide opened the door. She was wearing a blue shirt with a duck on it, red shorts, and a pair of navy tights. And a red cape. Her curly blonde-brown hair was in pigtails.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm your father. Is your mom in?"

"I think so. In where?"

"In the house."

Adelaide nodded. She turned around and yelled at the top of her lungs, "MOM! DADDY CAME HOME FROM WORK!"

Tracy walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. He'd forgotten that she cooked. He didn't really go for women who cooked very often.

"Hello, Tracy."

"Apollo," Tracy sighed. She turned to Adelaide and said, "Adelaide, go play in your room while I talk to Daddy."

The second time he saw her, she was wearing heels. She was eleven, and he had come to explain to her mother that she needed to go to Camp Half-Blood.

She was trying to walk in her mother's five-inch heels when he knocked on the door. She fell on the way to the door. When she opened the door, she froze.

"Dad?" she asked.

"Hi, Adelaide," he said, just as scared as she was.

"Addie," she corrected softly.

"Is Tracy home?"

Addie shook her head. "She's at work."

"Okay, I'll…I'll be back." Apollo turned to go, before changing his mind and turning around. "Heel-toe, small steps," he added.

Addie burst out laughing. "What?" she asked.

"Walking in heels. Heel-toe, small steps. Does wonders on the ankle," he explained.

"Thanks, dad. See you," Still laughing, Addie closed the door.

The next time he saw her, she was at her mother's funeral. Tracy had died instantly, in a car crash. There was nothing he could do to save her.

He made himself feel better by killing the jerk who did that to her. Heart attacks are all too common these days…

Addie wasn't very happy at the funeral. She was slouching barefoot next to the demonic woman who had kicked Tracy out after she got pregnant. He'd lived with her for six months after that, until Zeus had a conniption. That day, he'd explained how he was Apollo.

She had taken it very well.

Addie suddenly stood up, facing her grandmother. "No, I'm not moving in with you! You hate me! You hate everything about me, because my parents had sex out of wedlock! There, I said it: SEX! Sex sex sex sex sex. Stay away from me!"

She ran away from the funeral, and Apollo grabbed her arm. "What?" she screamed. "Get away from me! You have NEVER been there for me and why should that change now? I never want to see you again!" Addie ripped her arm away from him and ran off.

He found her in a nearby forest, crying. "Addie, can I talk to you?"

"No, you _cannot_ talk to me," she said through her tears. "I have seen you _twice_ in my life; why should that change now?"

"That's not true," he said softly, surprising himself.

"What's not true?" she asked surprised.

"I lived with your mother for six months,"

"Oh wow, six months," she said angrily.

"I only left because I was forced to. Addie, do you know anything about Greek mythology?" he asked suddenly.

"Only that I hate it. They tried teaching it to us in fifth grade, fell asleep every day in that class."

"Well, you know the gods and goddesses?"

"All of them were sluts and that's all I learned."

Thunder rumbled. "Well, they're real," he said, hoping Zeus wouldn't fry another one of his kids. "And I'm one of them,"

Addie started to laugh. "And I'm secretly Marilyn Manson," she said.

Apollo shrugged. "Everyone needs an alter-ego."

"Prove it. Prove that you're a god."

Apollo paled. "Do you know what happened when Semele told that to Zeus?"

"She…turned into a cockroach?"

"No, she burned up into ashes."

"O...kay? What did that have to do with anything? I didn't say, 'Hey, light me on fire, foo!' I said prove you're a god."

Apollo thought for a second, and then he pulled out his car keys. He hit the 'find' button, and his car appeared in the middle of the woods. Addie was frozen in shock, hand reaching out to touch it.

"Don't touch it," he cautioned. "It's hot. That's my sun chariot."

Addie turned towards him, nearly giddy with excitement. "Your car's a Lamborghini? Dude, that is my dream car." She pointed to the car, which indeed was a Lamborghini. "Can I ride in it? Please?"

Apollo chuckled, until he was reminded of another twelve-year-old standing in front of him, begging to ride in the chariot. After his chariot ride, only ashes were left. But if he made sure that she didn't touch the wheel, and after all, it was very difficult to trade places while driving nowadays, maybe she wouldn't die.

And maybe not.

"I...don't think that's the best idea," he said delicately.

Addie's face fell. "You," he added. "Are a demigod."

"So?" Addie said blankly.

"Monsters know that. They can smell it. And now that you know who you are, they'll start coming for you. You need to go to this camp. It's in upstate New York. It's for demigods, for people like you."

"There are more like me?" Addie asked.

"Of course there are," Apollo said, smiling. "We're all horny sluts, aren't we?"

The last time he saw her, she was fifteen. And dead.

One wayward arrow fired by that son of Poseidon. And now she was gone forever.

Apollo was just about to shoot that idiotic son of Poseidon (you gotta love irony) when a large hand jerked him back, sending the arrow flying wayward and piercing an innocent albatross.

"You," Poseidon said, his voice shaking with ill-concealed rage, "will not harm my son."

"What about what he did to my _daughter_? It's called retribution! Or would you rather I euthanize him like the _animal_ that he is, old man? Because right now, those are your only options!" Apollo screamed.

"You know," Hermes said, pulling Apollo back so that he couldn't rip Poseidon's face off. 'This could all work out in your favor."

"How?" Apollo asked, so shocked, he temporarily forgot about killing Poseidon.

"Well, either way this 'Wade' dude will be haunted by the dead face of your daughter, not literally, we hope. But he could be so traumatized, he might commit suicide." Hermes lowered his voice to a whisper. "Clinical depression is a lot harder to trace." In his normal voice, he said, "If not, you can always put him in jail for manslaughter and sue him for every penny he's got. In the meantime, here's the name of a good grief counselor."

_Travis K. Stoll, PhD_

_Grief Counselor_

"How did your kid get a PhD?" Apollo asked, kind of shocked. Athena he could believe, but _Hermes_? The dude still hadn't upgraded to an iPhone yet!

"Well, once his heart was broken by one of your daughters, the ADHD toned down."

"Did he even pass the fourth grade?"

"Does it matter? Look, just tell him I sent you."

In the waiting room, Apollo felt rather awkward. There was an old lady crying and staring at a picture of her cat, a five-year-old with nanny in tow, crying about his 'fishy', and…was that Mark Higgens? That dude he had shot through the stomach a few years back?

Okay, it was thirty years ago, but he deserved it!

"Apollo Leto?" the secretary called.

Apollo stood up and entered the room.


End file.
